taxidermy
by H.K.Nadia
Summary: Drabble. Regulus is the trophy, while Sirius is mounted for display. Sirius/Regulus implied.


Warnings: angsty, swearing, implied incest/abuse, all depending on where you draw your boundaries. Written in about an hour, so it is also quick and unprepared.

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**t****axidermy**  
By H. K. Nadia

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The healer gives Regulus a script for anxiety.

"You're not crazy, Regulus." She says, as she slides the magically sealed document over her desk. "It's perfectly normal to feel a little blue sometimes. Just remember to take your potion every day, and you'll be fine."

Sirius snatches the scroll from his hands, and then bites Regulus' lips in a hungry reward. He takes the script to two different _apothecaries_ and uses their mothers gold to fill it in advance for three months. Regulus thinks that Sirius' need is greater, more horrifying, than his own.

It's Sirius who needs tranquilization.

It is Sirius who licks his lips at mirrors and bares his teeth towards the startled reflection. It is Sirius whose eyes roll in mania, and whose hands tremble from a fear of withdrawal. It is Sirius whose mouth spews vitriol and ideology, reinvented dogma and spiteful accusations. _Sirius_ who hits Kreacher with a red muggle brick. _Sirius_ who leaves the elf whimpering, dying, in its own blood. It's Sirius who slips into the bedroom at night and who crawls onto Regulus' bed and who slides his long thin fingers around Regulus' neck, until his blunt nails bulge with flesh, and Regulus is struggling, terrified beneath him.

"One day," Sirius whispers to his brother in the dark, "I'm not going to stop."

He places four kisses along a seam of red fingerprints.

It is Regulus who cradles Kreacher's disturbingly weightless body. It is Regulus who desperately floos them through the fireplace in his father's study. It's Regulus who sinks to the bottom of the shower and folds his naked body into a misshapen ball and sobs. _Regulus_ who presses his kneecaps into his eyeballs. _Regulus_ who wishes that he could become even smaller, even more compact, so that no one would have to know he existed at all.

Sirius holds him against the corridor wall after dinner. He angles the weight of his body to crush across Regulus' throat. Regulus hangs limply, doesn't bother to struggle.

"You're in trouble." Sirius whispers. His lips are wet against Regulus' earlobe. "Should've just let the fuckin' thing _die_, Reg."

"_Fuck_ you." Regulus says.

Sirius pushes his free hand down into Regulus' pants.

"Don't piss me off, Reg." Sirius warns him. Regulus thinks that Sirius' eyes are like the eyes of the dead house elves which are mounted along their hallway. They are glassy, technically expressionless, but regardless of the face they inhabit: greedy. There is lust in their eternity. "You know one day I'm going to kill you, Reg, you little dark motherfucking slytherin cunt." Sirius' voice is sweet. His tone is gentle and comforting. His hand is hot.

Sirius lusts. That is all. He lusts for conquest, satisfaction, and freedom. Sirius lusts so much that it consumes him.

Regulus wants to lean forward into his big brother's weight, like he thinks he did when they were children. Secretly, he wants the arm that Sirius is using to restrict his breathing to press tighter. He wants to feel the pressure. He wants to feel the heat of the bones in Sirius' arm crush his trachea. He wants to feel his blood bounce around his veins, getting hotter and hotter. He wants the hand that Sirius is using to touch his cock to move faster, instead of just being there; just being a threat that he isn't frightened by. He wants to hate Sirius. He wants to tell Sirius' friends: _'he's insane for morgana's sake, why the fuck can't you see that he's absolutely fucking bat-shit crazy?'_

"Fuck you." Regulus repeats, so low it can barely be heard.

"Oh darling," Sirius says, and Regulus can see his eyes shine, dead. "You _fucking_ love it."

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**A/N: **Bit of a black mood. If this angsty/masochistic fic didn't clue you in. I don't understand their relationship at all, so don't ask me. I get the feeling that there's a lot more going on here – and if it wasn't one thirty in the morning I might have been more inclined to find out exactly what. As it is, I dust my hands and post this drabble: a short character study on the relationship between these two incredible characters. Take of it what you will.


End file.
